Good Morning
by Kireina-Ame
Summary: Ichigo and Rukia wake to another day, together. Full story now up. Mature.


**Author's Notes:** This is set in Soul Society as a special gift to Cryztina (from deviantart) for being an awesome fan to my chapter story. I have been contemplating this one-shot for a while (and then used it as a distraction from "OTS" when Chapter 6 was proving to be difficult for me to complete. But now it is done and I am very curious as to what everyone will think of my _very first published **lemony **fic_.

_**Update:**_ The entirety of this one-shot can still be found on deviant art but I'm going to try out posting the whole kit n' caboodle here as well.

* * *

_**Good **__**Morning**_

* * *

Rukia believed there were two kinds of people in the morning: those who like morning sex and those who don't. Now, she had never had the opportunity in her life before him to wonder which she was and never thought of the consequence if one's preference didn't match their significant other. That would have been like asking her what her favorite TV show was. She didn't know what a show was or even what a TV was prior to her misadventures in the World of Living. As morbid and depressing as she now knows it was, she never expected to fall in love, to be so entwined with another person that she now knew what her eternity (or however long they had) would look like, much less that she'd be making love to someone on a regular basis. She figured she'd either be alone during her time in Soul Society or her life would be unnaturally short, as many young shinigami's lives were. So, yes, she knew she had been rather pessimistic. After all, though she may have lived quite a long time in relation to a mortal's lifespan, her slow aging kept her in her (rather angsty) teenaged years for most of it and she was still young in relation to other souls.

But instead, here she was curled against the bare chest of a man. A man she loved more than life, more than death, more than her shinigami powers, more than… than… rabbits! Cute little fuzzy baby ones, at that! It was shocking. It didn't matter how many days, weeks, months, years, she would spend with him, it was still a pleasant shock to her system in the mornings to rouse to wakefulness by the sound of his heart, the feel of his arm around her body, his often nude skin warm against hers. She felt lucky that she was a naturally early riser and that he could sleep like the dead. She had all the freedom to appreciate his attractive features in the beautiful rays of early dawn.

Placing a few chaste kisses to his golden skin across his sternum, she let his smell take over her senses. She had long ago decided that most days, she was definitely a morning sex person. In the wee hours of sunlight, their coupling was not about primal need, not about dominance, not about reassurance, and arguably not even always about arousal. There was a vulnerable tenderness in their morning love sessions. It was simply their bodies and spirits coming together as one, to start the day in a moment of completeness. There was never any talking, not conversational at least, but the vows they made with their bodies said it all.

This man beneath her gave her his everything. His mortal life ended prematurely by his own choice to join her in the afterlife. To others, they would say that it was the obvious and the best decision to be made for the safety and security of the tri-dimensional universe. They would say that it would have been too difficult for such a powerful shinigami to exist as a mortal. They would say it was an easy decision. They would say it was a logical decision. But they would all be lies to protect the sensitive core of their love from the world's judgments.

Truth was that they fought like the warriors they both were about this decision, one against the other. She refused to be the reason or cause he had lost his chance at living, at going to college, at watching his sisters grow up, at having a family. She battled against him, _for_ him. To her, it was always about him and the thought that he could be truly happy and fulfilled, even without her, was enough motivation to push him away.

He saw through it all, just like he usually does with her. How some mortal teenaged punk grew into a man that could break down her inner-most barriers with just a glance from those piercing, knowing eyes was still a mystery to her. But he saw her vulnerability, he saw the fear. The fear that he'd leave, the fear that he'd stay. The insecurity of not being enough for him, the anxiety of being the center of his life, the diffidence of caring for his heart for all eternity, he saw it all. He saw it and just smiled one of his easy, loving smiles, the kind that only turned up the corners of his mouth but made his eyes glow.

In one of the rare moments of Rukia's entire existence, she gave in. She gave in to the want, the need, the desire, the passion, the love. She gave in to both the selfish desire to keep him as well as the selfless desire to raise him up and protect him. She simply gave in and allowed herself to love and be loved. By believing in him, she was also believing in herself. Now they were one and they believed in each other. It was no longer a mystery to her that they had become quite the famous pair amongst other death gods in Seireitei, especially when she herself was in awe. Not that she would admit that and certainly not to others.

It was with this defeat, this submission, that made her realize that sometimes when you lose, you win.

* * *

While she was thoroughly distracted by the light beating of his heart and lightly caressing the warm skin of his chest, his honey brown eyes opened to take in the nymph resting on his body. Ichigo knew while he most likely missed most of her secret gentle caresses and whispers, he always woke up before she would realize. Some mornings he would even catch her by surprise when she was particularly lost in her thoughts. He treasured these glimpses of his lover, this secretly tender part of Rukia, that he kept all for himself. She would take hiatus from that hardened, strong-willed, icy warrior most saw and cease being a shinigami and a noble for just a little while. When they were alone together, during these private intimate moments, she was just a woman. His woman. A woman in love.

This morning was no different. Her small, pale hand was splayed over his right pectoral, trying to touch as much skin as possible while her ear was pressed over the left, lost in the rhythm of his heart. Her short hair lightly mused from sleep surrounded her head like a dark halo and tickling his skin. Blinking just enough to bring her into focus, he urged himself to stay quiet and still just a little longer. He was determined to enjoy his silent study of his partner, best friend, lover. Darkened amber eyes rove over her thin digits and well kept nails, up her soft skin to her kissable shoulder. Her skin there illuminated with the early morning light, begging to be adored.

But he stayed strong. Through her and for her, he could always stay strong. Even after years the potency Rukia had over him never even begun to dilute. But how this woman could both make him a venerated death god who felt powerful enough to take on the world and all its evils and then also a simple man whose bones would melt in a state of silly contentment when she ran her fingers through his mane and whispered, '_You did well, idiot_.'

Ichigo wasn't sure when it happened, when his heart was taken surreptitiously by the proud slip of a girl he met when he was fifteen years old. He could only tell you that it was out of both of their hands and was something a higher power could only have engineered. This time, Aizen was the pawn in someone else's grand plan. Somehow the mysterious, cold, proud, tough, pushy, bossy, selfless, brave girl became his everything.

Fighting a smile as the noble woman graced his tingling skin with another light kiss, he found himself wishing that the sheet covering everything below her shoulder blades would slide just a bit further down. He loved seeing her like this in the morning. Her hair unkempt, her eyelids a little lower from the sleep, her mouth even more pouty, and her skin gleaming. It was near impossible to catch his reaper not looking completely groomed any other time. This was the outward manifestation of the sensitive inner core of the Kuchiki princess. And he was determined to keep those rare times to himself.

The sight of her disheveled, blissfully sleepy state was one of the most erotic sights he had ever experienced in his long lifetime, both alive and dead. The first time, he had caught her completely off-guard. She had returned from a particularly trying mission of training new recruits in the Living World and escaped around lunchtime to their chambers to nap until Ichigo's own duties ended. When she sat up from her much needed nap on the futon in their room to see him gawking at her she hadn't even the opportunity to open her mouth to question him, or insult him, before he dove for her. Earning a delightful _squeal_ of surprise and minimal resistance, he whispered hungrily against her skin that he was going to spend the rest of the afternoon devouring her. And he did.

It was the feeling of her hair, its soft ends flirting against his chest and the adorable bunching it did on the back of her head that was his undoing. He reached out to gently press his fingertips against the tempting onyx silk. He knew the moment that she raised those large, gorgeous eyes, a mix of midnight blue and royal violet, to meet his own that he would be doing the same thing this morning. He would worship this woman and tell her without words just what she is to him. He would tease, argue, and delegate paperwork later when she would once again be his partner, best friend, and lieutenant. Right now she was his lover, his soul mate, and she deserved to be thoroughly worshiped.

* * *

Their eyes met and a spark that had been slumbering through the night ignited into a slow burning flame. Their lips rose to meet each other and heads tilted to allow for deeper access as their tongues tasted and explored in an orchestrated dance. There was no time and no world, only each other and the soothing heat collecting between them.

His hand remained in her tangled tresses, supporting the base of her head with care as his other rose to guide her hips higher to sit across his abdomen. The summer sheet covering her body slid down porcelain skin, allowing a cooling breeze to whisper across their forms. The calloused hand glided its way from the slender hip to her lower back to rub circles on the smooth skin. She leaned into his warmth, allowing the hand to pull her further into his body. One of her own hands kneaded the muscles on his chest while the other pressed upward to cup his face, their mouths still joined in wet passion.

Ichigo's hand could not sit idle while the form of his lover sat atop him. Never lifting from her creamy skin, his hands left their previous positions to massage from her shoulders to narrow wait, from her flat stomach to her hips, and down her thighs before reversing themselves to appreciate her body all again. He gently squeezed, lightly tickled, and rubbed loving circles everywhere he could reach and was rewarded by the slight pants his goddess gave him between their kisses.

Wanting more of her, he detached his mouth from hers to travel down her lithe neck, leaving a trail of open-mouthed kisses. Lightly sucking and nipping on her soft skin, her pants progressed into blissful moans and satisfied sighs, urging him on. One of her hands gently gripped his hair as the other took purchase on his shoulder, feeling his muscles beneath the skin contract with every move his body made. When his mouth found her breast, she loudly exhaled and pushed her pelvis down into his. Their previous night's activities left them bare and ready, and she could already feel his desire for her growing.

Placing her lips at his temple, she didn't fight to bite back her sighs and mews at the delicious feeling his mouth was causing, leaving all of her skin sensitive and her muscles weak. Using the light perspiration that began on their bodies, she lowered her pelvis down his body, just far enough to cover his arousal with her already damp sex. He groaned in approval, his own head rolling back onto the soft, white pillow. Rukia took her turn to take more a taste of his skin, the velvety texture covering lean, tempered muscles. Her mouth tasted his chest, her saliva chilling his skin where she would lick before moving to a new spot. Delicate hands in turn massaged his upper arms, the ones that held onto her on above Sokyoku Hill, the ones that caught her when she fell, she ones that held a sword in her defense.

The heiress was never one for allowing a man to think she was a defenseless, weak girl. Far from it, in fact. She would rather put herself in uncontrollable dangers to prove she was a woman warrior, equal to any man and far better than most. But this man, the one that actually became her champion, her hero, her savior, he never doubted her strength. He never questioned her resolve. He didn't stop believing in her. He protected her because he _wanted_ to, not because she needed him to. How could she not love this man?

The fool of a teenage punk hadn't even known her a single season, only two months were they together. A broken shinigami and a young human apprentice brought together by desperation. And he knew nothing about her. He didn't know she grew up in filth and squalor, that she struggled against starvation and violence. He also didn't know that she was a noble woman, even if only by adoption. He didn't know that she once killed a man, a wonderful man who didn't deserve such an end. For all intent and purposes, you could say that he knew nothing about her.

But he saw what others didn't in her. And he survived the un-survivable, obtaining powers beyond imagination, and he saved her. How could she not love this man?

She wasn't aware how long she had lost herself to her thoughts until she felt his warm hands lift her face from his chest. His eyes stared right down into her heart and his thumbs caressed her cheeks in the softest fashion. He saw what she was thinking and smiled again. That same, perfect smile. Gently, he lifted her face towards his to kiss her, their lips moving slowly to caress each other, pushing off and coming back in for more.

Ichigo turned her over and let her body sink into the soft sheets, his mouth never pausing in their affections. He couldn't help but think of Shakespeare every time he kissed her. _O, then, dear saint, let lips do what hands do. They pray; grant thou, lest faith turn to despair. Thus from my lips, by thine, my sin is purged_. Finding himself smiling again, he kissed his way into her mouth's warmth and she opened to allow him entry, meeting his fervor with her own.

Unable to help himself from his own reverie, he wondered if she knew just what she was to him, what she had meant to him from the moment they met. Aizen and the war notwithstanding, for they didn't matter. This slender woman brought him a new reason to smile, a focus for his resolve, and gave him back the light whenever the darkness threatened his senses. Even his family knew it, during the brief visits he would take to visit them, and even before he left. He loved them even more, through the power she gave him. He had never been more himself. Maybe that's why they could let him go.

Feeling everything build up so fast inside them both, their hands sought each other out in need. Grasping, sliding, caressing, adoring, they pulled each other in as close as the physical body of their souls would allow. Feeling so much of each other but needing more, Rukia opened herself up and pulled her lover in. Ichigo cradled her form in reverence, breathing out her name in a whisper.

She wrapped her legs tightly around his hips, feeling his body work itself into hers as she panted into his mouth. Her nails tracing, teasing, lightly scratching down his back in luscious encouragement. His neck buckled under the intense satisfaction and hid in her neck as his body worked in perfect rhythm. A slow drag out, a quick, deep push in, and sighs from both lovers completing the symphony. Their skin glistening with light sweat and flushed in pleasure, the room lightening more as the sun worked its way higher into the sky.

Rukia was always first in the mornings. Her body had no natural resistance for her lover's perfectly timed strokes, his talented fingers that knew when and how to sneak their way down her body to her center to take her to that edge. Her indigo eyes would fight to close and simply allow her nerve endings to experience the sensation. But she didn't, not in the mornings. He wanted to see her eyes and she couldn't deny him.

The intense love, possession, and worshipful look she found in those ambers would always make her stomach tighten into a hot coil. Having him witness his power over her body, her heart, and her soul started a cold fire in her abdomen. A tingling, numbing sensation would slide up her spine and down to her toes, leaving only points of intense sensitivity at her center, her mouth, her breasts. She tried to fight the feeling, put it off as long as she could to enjoy this moment with him in early dawn. But as always, her body only listened to him and those eyes were telling her to let go. To let him take over, to fall off that edge into ecstasy, to let him witness her at her most open, vulnerable.

Taking in more air in a soft gasp, her back arched and her heels dug into his backside. Her entire body contracted into a beautiful bow and tightened around him in a delicious grip. The fire in her belly became a firework that flexed nearly every muscle in her body and a hot wetness covered her lover's sex, urging him to join her. He always did. Locking his lips with hers in a rather soft kiss for the intense feelings both of their bodies were going through, he rode out his own release with hers.

They stayed that way for seconds, minutes, until their panting slowed and their kiss devolved into playful, tired nips and licks. He waited until the last possible moment to pull from within her, his arms no longer wanting to hold himself over her form. Lying next to her on his side, rubbing small circles on her stomach as their skin began to chill from the evaporating sweat. Her hand massaged his scalp and lightly tugged on his orange locks.

With so much emotion unspoken to one another, they settled for satiated, endearing smiles. The lovers stared unabashed into each others' eyes, hiding nothing. All of their love, what once used to scare them down to their bones, on complete display through their eyes. With all of the vulnerability their gazes and their bodies now allowed them to do, they were still young and their voices were still catching up. They would think it, show it, express it with looks, touches, and pleasure, but they were not as good at saying it, even so many years in. But that was ok, they both thought. Because they both knew. It was in every insult, every command, every concerned word they shared aloud. But in one phrase more than any other, during any time they had together, it was the most powerful. One day they'll be able to say it. But, then again, they won't even have to.

"Good morning, Rukia."

"Good morning, Ichigo."


End file.
